


Let the Whales Sing, Let the Potatoes Cheer, Deep in Your Dreams...

by AkemiMiyano23



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Brief Appearances, Fever Dream, Gen, I'm sorry i don't even know what i'm doing, Let's shower Ren with some love..., Light spoilers for NOVEMBER, attempted humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 02:37:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19416733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkemiMiyano23/pseuds/AkemiMiyano23
Summary: The cat’s toe beans prodded him. He swayed with it. His tiny paws grabbing to the cat’s. “…Ren, please tell me that’s not you.”Ren.It felt right. He opened his snout and…“Squeak.”…The mouse and the cat blinked. Well, this is going to be difficult.Also, whale dolls are cute.Also also, please tell the potatoes to stop chasing us.Wait what?





	Let the Whales Sing, Let the Potatoes Cheer, Deep in Your Dreams...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Umiko Morebi & Shama](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Umiko+Morebi+%26+Shama).



> Prompt: the world has been taken over by potatoes (Umiko)/whales (Shama). 2k words.
> 
> Standard disclaimer, as usual.

He blearily opened his eyes.

There was darkness.

Dark, deep abyss.

He didn’t know how he came to be here. Actually, who _is_ he? He couldn’t remember. Try as he might, he couldn’t remember. He placed a hand on his furry head. He blinked.

Fur?

He removed his hand from his head, and looked at it. Or, at least he assumed he was looking at it. He couldn’t even look a centimeter ahead of himself. He wiggled his fingers. He felt four digits following his will. He wiggled his toes. Three digits followed his wish. He couldn’t resist that _instinct_ to twitch his facial muscles and so he did.

He felt something like hair wiggling in the air.

Something was connected to his spine and it swished.

Were he sane, he would have questioned _what_ in the seven Depths is he. Alas, there was nothing in his memory.

He felt there was something wrong. Maybe it was these deep aches in his body? Was he hurt? He patted himself, but didn’t feel anything wrong. Not one he could touch, in any case—he could still feel the weird heat from his body, and the ache remained.

A particularly painful twinge emanated from his leg.

Gingerly, the little creature padded forward

* * *

When Morgana heard Niijima Makoto first propose the plan, his hackles rose. The second-in-command noticed his response, and said, “I don’t like it either, Mona.” She looked away, holding her elbow in a death grip. Just like what Ren would be if they didn’t— _no, **no**_ , don’t you **dare** go there. “I couldn’t come up with a better plan,” she grimaced.

The four members of the Phantom Thieves of Hearts sat in a solemn silence.

Morgana hopped up the desk, the gears of his head turning. Makoto was the most brilliant mind in the group when it came to tactics and plans. Everyone also pitched in, but that idea was the best they had. If even she couldn’t come up with something else… The feline shook his head in an attempt to dislodge the thought. Perish the thought, they would _somehow_ get through this.

“…Is there really no other way?” Sakura Futaba asked, hugging her knees close. Morgana’s heart ached as he watched his leader—his _friend_ reached toward her and patted her head. The redhead looked up at him briefly. A pair of warm eyes met her own conflicted ones. The navigator closed her eyes and rested her head on her knees.

Ren, bless his soul, twitched a tiny smile. His hands continued to soothe his surrogate sister. Grey eyes and blue eyes met. Resolution. Determination. There was a twinge of fear, but no hesitation.

There was no talking him out of this.

The former sole-navigator nodded. “Only if Joker—no, _Ren_ is sure.”

Grey eyes burned with blazing inner fire.

* * *

On hindsight, maybe they shouldn’t have been so optimistic. The world is full of rotten adults. Or simply-angry adults. The Phantom Thieves may have meant well, but as their fame grew and they eluded capture, they were implicitly laughing in the face of the police force. The second they got their grubby, angry fingers on one of the Thieves—their leader no less…

Suffice to say, they lashed out and vented.

Morgana padded over to the bed, hopping. The bed-slash-mattress barely dipped. A wheeze echoed in the attic. His ears lowered. The feline snuggled close to the boy’s side, feeling the shuddered rise and fall of his chest. Regret bloomed in his chest, but he stomped on it. They didn’t have much choice.

Morgana closed his eyes when the wave of drowsiness hit…

* * *

He didn’t know how long he had been walking. It was hard to tell in the dark. The dark skies were getting brighter, as though a sun is rising in the horizon. He paused and raised his hand to his face. Four grey-furred digits stared back at him. He glanced at his rear end. A creamy tail swished.

This would probably have been weird if he remember what he was.

He smelled something. His grey whiskers twitched as he tracked the scent. His beady eyes blinked.

There were _somethings_ in the horizon.

* * *

Morgana didn’t know how he got here or where he was. The feline saw his Lady Ann in his dreams, closed his eyes to blink, and opened his eyes to this weird…place. A meadow, no sign of human civilization, nor any other animals. There were scarcely any trees, too. He pawed his face.

That certainly felt real. Aaaaaaaaand he was in his cat form again. Great.

“Where am I?” he murmured. “This is too vivid to be just a dream…” He rose and started walking, glancing around every so often. “Where’s Ren?”

There was no answer.

“I hope he’s okay…” Morgana sighed. Breeze blew dried grass over him. He scrunched up his feline face. One of the grass bopped him on the nose.

…A familiar scent. The feline froze. “No.” He smelled the air again. “No. nononono. No.” His breathing picked up. Indeed, this was the one scent he didn’t want to smell here. Frantic, Morgana sprinted against the wind.

* * *

One of the things was approaching. _Fast._ He paused. Tilted his head. What a curious thing, he thought to himself. It had blue orbs, black fur with some white patches. It was also running at him on all fours.

Very interesting—the first other being he had seen since he had been wandering around.

The fangs looked interestingly sharp too.

The other being skidded to a stop before him. He looked up. Huh, he was shorter than the other being, maybe half its size. The blue eyes regarded him with wide-eyed disbelief. He blinked back, wordlessly saying hello.

Their whiskers twitched in almost unison.

The other being— _a feline_ , his mind supplied—spoke, “…Ren?”

He tilted his head and his nose twitched. Was the other being talking to him?

The feline approached his cautiously, raising a paw. He stared at the approaching paw. He could see the glint of sheathed claws. However, for a reason he could not fathom, he felt…safe.

The cat’s toe beans prodded him. He swayed with it. His tiny paws grabbing to the cat’s. “…Ren, please tell me that’s not you.”

_Ren._ It felt right. He opened his snout and…

“ _Squeak_.”

…

The mouse and the cat blinked.

Well, this is going to be difficult.

* * *

It amazed Morgana how mouse Ren was still like his human self. He twitched like every second, his eyes wandered, some times taking the rest of his body with them (Morgana had to carefully drag him back or follow him). He barely squeaked, but when he did it was…surprisingly…cute. He looked like that mouse form he got when a Shadow debuffed him in Futaba’s palace, sans the mask.

It made him worry.

Ren squeaked and trotted off with those little legs.

Here we go again.

Morgana sighed, trotting after him. Since they met in this weird place, mouse Ren had been running off often, usually sighting or smelling things Morgana didn’t. Most of them were harmless, usually merely landmarks that looked like shrines or abandoned old house. He usually stopped near them, gazed at them with his grey eyes. He blinked several times. Tilted his head. Squeaked some more, and continued walking. They were seemingly not the one he was looking for.

_However_ , Ren was without his signature black-white domino mask, and presumably, without his personas.

Nope, not taking any chances.

Morgana padded over beside him. “Geez, Ren, slow down will you?” The mouse didn’t heed him. Opening his snout, Morgana was about to into a tirade when he felt the familiar sensation of a pull.

_Treasure,_ it said.

His eyes widened. No way.

The Phantom Thief whirled in the direction of the pull, finding himself (and the little mouse) facing a mahogany door. It was smooth, a small handle around a meter above them. The door’s design was intricate, like it would belong to a rich person’s house with taste for classical decoration or something.

Mouse Ren approached the door, his nose twitching all the while. His tiny paws grabbed to the reliefs of the wood. He pushed himself up with his back legs, carefully climbing. Morgana watched anxiously, tails twitching in agitation. Somehow, he knew it wouldn’t end well.

Ren slipped. He squeaked in surprise.

Morgana pounced. He grabbed the poor mouse with his mouth. He felt him shiver from his jaws. The feline landed gracefully, and dropped the rattled mouse. “ _Don’t_ do that again,” he admonished. His heart pounded in his ears. That was so close.

The mouse looked up, and let out a series of squeaks. While pointing at the door.

“What?”

Ren squeaked louder, movements more vehement. Morgana followed his little digits, and stared at the handle. There was a tiny paw indent. Definitely too big and shaped wrong for a feline’s.

But just right for a small rodent.

Ren and Morgana stared at one another. “I’m not gonna like this, do I?” muttered the feline, resigned.

The squeak sounded almost apologetic to his ears.

* * *

It took them three tries and lots of feeling uncomfortable, but both rodent and feline successfully worked together and opened the door. Morgana grabbed Ren with his mouth _very carefully_ , and scaled the door. Little Ren grabbed the door handle and shimmied out of Mona’s grip and pressed his little paw. The handle clicked. The good boy climbed on top of Mona and held on to his fur, tiny paws curling.

The door creaked open.

Morgana cautiously pushed the door open just enough to slip in. Beyond it, there was a pedestal with glowing blue whale doll. The whale doll floated, seemingly beckoning them. It looked strangely realistic. On the ground, around the pedestal were lumps of light brown rock.

Ren slid down from his back and squeaked dreamily. His paws reaching for the whale doll. The tip of his toe scrapped against the pedestal.

Morgana’s fur stood.

The room exploded into a flurry of activities.

The “stones” around them jumped and rolled, revealing faces. Their expression varied, but they all screamed the same thing: “All hail the Potato King!” The room shook as a giant lump of potato ambled in. The potato was _huge_ , shimmering crown on its head. In its hand was a wooden sword that suspiciously looked sharper than it should. Ren screamed (as best a mouse could), and scrambled back into Morgana. The feline crouched and hissed protectively over his shivering form.

“Who are these strangers? _Ans_ **wer**!” the Potato King boomed. His voice a mix of two different voices.

The room exploded into cacophony of noise. It was hard to discern who said what, but Morgana heard a particularly shrill echo of a woman screaming. Ren shuddered violently under him, a whimper escaping his snout. The scream sounded suspiciously like, “You little bastard, why did you have to be born?!”

Morgana didn’t like this. Really, _really_ didn’t like this.

The giant potato looked down on them. “I see a **_thief_** among us! A _rat_! You think you have the right to feel _safe_? No, I won’t let you leave! W **a** k _e_ **u** p!” The king spat. He grabbed the whale doll in its chubby hand. Ren squeaked in fear. “W **e** ’l _l_ m **a** k _e_ yo **u** u **n** de ** _r_** sta ** _nd_** —o _ne_ m **us** t t _ake_ f **u** _ll_ r _e_ s ** _p_** o **n** _sibi_ l _i **t** y _o _f_ t **he** ir _ac_ ti **ons**. Off with their heads!”

The potatoes cheered loudly it was almost deafening. “Long live the king!” They shouted. Pitchforks and torches appeared in their hands like magic. “Long live the potatoes!”

Morgana scrunched up his face. The doll pulsed with light and the feline felt the pull of treasure again. He quickly nudged Ren with a paw. “Ren, I have an idea! But you have to trust me!”

* * *

His eyes widened. His guardian had a plan? “See the doll over there?” Without waiting for an answer, the cat continued, “I bet we can leave this place if we can get it! But he’s holding it close, can you distract him—or-or maybe run while I try stealing it?”

He shook like a leaf, frantically shaking his head. No, he didn’t want to be left alone. Not again, not again, _not again please_. Shaking paws pressed against his face, hiding. He couldn’t do this, _no please no_.

“ ** _Ren!_** ”

The world turned dark and red and _everything paused_.

A flash of blue, and a winged shadowy form appeared before him. The figure didn’t say anything, only stared at him. After what felt like forever, it addressed him, “Are you giving up? You had just accomplished part of what you sought to do.” it paused. The fire that made up its face flickered, grin sharpening. “You are facing an obstacle who blocked the way toward one who had wronged you. Are you GIVING UP?” The fire roared.

For some reason, a part of him roared back in defiance.

The shadow laughed. Were he anyone else, he would have thought it was a dark, malicious. It was warm to him. Very, very familiar warmth. “Very well!”

He felt glee. Like he had never felt before.

Then time resumed.

Ren the mouse was just a weak creature. A weak creature against a mass of unknown giants more than capable of trampling him to death. He squeaked his defiance and darted in.

The potato-like beings ambled and shouted in confusion. Still, Ren’s small form allowed him to dart along the gaps between them. One potato tried to swat at him with a torch. He dodged. Another tried to stab him with a pitchfork. He sidestepped and twirled and dashed away. The potatoes screamed at him and at each other. Their sizes made it difficult to not stab or burn each other as they tried to harm him.

“What are you guys doing?!” The king screamed shrilly. “Get him! No one shall deny the potatoes world domination!”

Ren darted around and toyed with them. Squeaks of thrill escaping his snout. Never before had he felt this much thrill! Or hadn’t he? The shadow in his heart— _Arsene_ laughed.

Ah.

Something _clicked_.

He is Amamiya Ren.

“Yesh! Got-h itsh!”

“Wha—?! MY DOLL, NO!”

“Nyehehe~! Looking cool, Joker!”

He is Joker, leader of the Phantom Thieves of Hearts. He is accompanied by Mona, his friend and fellow thief. And steal their way to freedom they shall.

* * *

Sakura Sojiro waited for the good doctor to be finished checking up his ward, a batch of coffee brewing. No matter what he felt, he needed to keep his coffee up to his standard. It was his pride and joy, aside from Futaba and the kid. And their friends. Just don’t tell them that. The middle-aged man shook his head, turning back to the pot of curry. He carefully stirred the mix. Turning slightly, he grabbed a plate and put warm, white rice into it. Scooped up the curry, and carefully bathed the rice in curry sauce.

Sojiro heard a meow from the attic. Ah, looked like the cat woke up. He hoped it wouldn’t get in Takemi’s way. Speaking of the devil, she came down.

He placed the cup of coffee on the booth. “How was he?”

She smiled thankfully, and placed her handbag on the seat beside her. “Definitely needs more thorough check up as soon as possible. From what I _could_ see, the odds are in his favor.”

Sojiro sighed deeply in relief. “That’s good to hear.”

“He looks like he had a good night rest. The fever from last night also broke, so that’s good for him.” Sojiro scratched his hair to the sound of sipping of coffee. Takemi placed the emptied cup back. “I’ll come back later, Sojiro. Call me if anything happens.”

“Yeah. Sure. Thanks, Doc.”

Upstairs, Ren twitched in his sleep, his breath hitching. Morgana curled up tighter beside him and purred. They both sighed contentedly, back to dreaming of potatoes and whales.

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, I don't even know what I'm doing...  
> "There was no feasible way to make the fic not-humor without making this entire thing a fever dream," thought little old me as I got this prompt. *sigh* I dunno what else to say ._.
> 
> Do let me know if I did something wrong.


End file.
